


cause i want what i want (do you think that i want too much)

by notcaycepollard



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: Facetime, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, tumblr can take the blame for this whole thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb’s phone buzzes while he’s still on set, and it’s a good half-hour before he gets a chance to glance at the message.<br/><em>u up?</em><br/><em>it’s like 6pm here, man, we’re ahead of you</em><br/><em>whatever. ft?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	cause i want what i want (do you think that i want too much)

The day of his birthday, Seb’s working. Feels like he's always working, these days, and it's good, of course it's good, but he's not gonna lie, he misses everyone. All the tweets and texts and sweet instagram messages in the world don't make up for being an ocean away, for cancelling fan appearances, for only hearing people's voices down a phone line. He shouldn't complain, really, he loves work, he loves _getting_ work, it's just… If he's being honest with himself, he knows it's because no film set compares to working on Civil War. He's not gonna think too hard about that. It's Mackie, is what it is, and that's all there is to it. He'd kind of expected to hear from him, a text or a tweet at least, but they're finishing up for the day and still, there's nothing.

Then Seb’s phone buzzes while he’s still on set, and it’s a good half-hour before he gets a chance to glance at the message.

_u up?_

_it’s like 6pm here, man, we’re ahead of you_

_whatever. ft?_

FT indeed, Seb thinks. They’re done filming for the day, though, and he’s already on his way back to his trailer to grab his shit. He’s barely through the door when he’s opening the app, typing in Mackie’s name.

“Hey,” Mackie says, and Seb’s never gonna admit it but it’s good to hear his voice. Like, really good. “Well, well, look who it is. Getting old, kid.”

“Fuck you,” Seb says without heat. Grins at the camera, Mackie’s face. “You’ll have to lend me your Zimmerframe.” Mackie cracks up at that, and Seb knows if they were in person he’d be shoving Seb’s shoulder, poking his thigh. Doing _something_ simultaneously obnoxious and attractively physical, anyway. Then Mackie’s squinting at him, raising his eyebrows.

“Man, what are you wearing?”

“It’s costume,” Seb shrugs, “you know how it is.”

“It’s terrible,” Mackie tells him, and yeah, it is. It is terrible. The 70s look does not do it for Sebastian one bit, but work is work, and it’s a fun role.

“Whatever,” Seb says. “Gimme a minute and I’ll change.”

“Yeah,” Mackie agrees, and Seb can see him sitting back in his chair like Seb is gonna put on a show. “Okay.” Just for that, Seb props his phone on the bench, right where he’ll still be in view as he strips down, pulls on jeans. He’s still shirtless when he leans back in, and Mackie makes a noise audible even through the tinny phone speaker. It’s possible Seb’s doing it on purpose. He’s lost the muscle he’d gained for Civil War, but he still works out for a reason, goddamnit.

“Where are you?” he asks, squinting at Mackie himself, “that’s not your house.”

“Boston,” Anthony says, “filming.”

“The Detroit project?”

“Yeah,” Anthony agrees, “it’s going great. Living in a hotel, though. Gets old.”

“I don’t know,” Seb shrugs, “it’s got its charms,” and then pulls on a t-shirt, his leather jacket. Puts in earbuds and plugs them into the phone. “Speaking of, I’m gonna head home... you want me to call you back, or?”

“Nah, keep talking,” Anthony tells him, and Seb would never say it either but that sounds like _Mackie_ admitting it’s good to hear Seb’s voice too, maybe. He switches the call to audio only, shoves his phone in his pocket, locks his trailer as he leaves. Slides into the back of the waiting car, runs his fingers through his hair. It’s disgustingly sticky with product, and he already can’t wait to do basically anything with it to get rid of the blond highlights, but that’s actor life, he guesses. It’s still better than the production that is growing out Bucky Barnes hair every three years.

“Ireland’s real nice,” he says, “it’s pretty. I’ll send you a picture. Hey, you’re in Boston, you see Chris much?”

“Haven’t yet,” Mackie yawns, and why the fuck is he tired, it’s like midday there. 1pm, maybe. “Maybe in a couple days. We'll do something super wholesome and photogenic and make you spit with jealousy over how good we look in all the pictures. I dunno, he's busy, I’m busy. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, we’re all _fucking_ _busy_ ,” Seb sighs, and Mackie laughs.

“Gotta keep that hustle, baby,” he says, and that has Seb smiling.

“Not much hustle, if you’re hanging out in a hotel in the middle of the goddamn afternoon bothering my ass all the way across the Atlantic.”

“Night shoot,” Mackie says as if it explains everything, and actually, yeah, it does.

“Ouch,” Seb commiserates. “What was your call time? Four?”

“Three,” Mackie says, and yawns again. “Up at two. Man, I don’t even _know_ what time I’m running on now. Figured I should call sooner rather than later. Didn’t want to fall asleep and miss it entirely, you know?”

“Yeah,” Seb says, a little softer than he means to, because Mackie tired and yawning and sweet is way too much to deal with. “Yeah, I get that feeling. Still jetlagged, I swear.”

“That acting life, huh. So, you’re living the hotel world too, huh? Filming on location?”

“Serviced apartment,” Seb tells him. Lets himself in, grabs a beer from the fridge and throws his bag down on the couch. Peels off his jacket and hangs it up. “Basically a hotel. There’s room service, even.”

“Hotel life,” Mackie agrees. “I hope you’re gonna order something good for your birthday.”

“Oh, _that’s_ why you’re calling,” Seb teases, and now that he’s alone he pulls his phone back out, flicks it back to video. Flops down on the couch, and takes a pull of beer, taps the mouth of the bottle against his lower lip. “I thought you forgot, or something. Just wanted to hear my voice. You know _Chris_ tweeted at me. A real nice birthday message.”

“Chris is very nice that way,” Mackie agrees blandly. “You want me to tweet at you, instead?”

“Depends,” Seb says. Grins at Mackie, wishing like hell he was here in person, because Mackie’s always been a sucker for Seb’s sharpest smile. The one that shows all his teeth, eyes glittering with the shit he’s about to pull. It must translate enough through camera, because Mackie huffs out a breath, grins right back.

“Oh, depends, huh? On what?”

“Where this call is going,” Seb says, and Mackie doesn’t laugh. Just smirks way too knowing.

“Well,” he says, voice pitched lower, and it must be some Pavlovian shit or something because just the sound of it has Seb shivering a little, leaning further back into the couch, letting his eyelids drop heavy and half-closed. It’s a look he knows, because Mackie has told him, is too fucking good. Deliberately seductive, something Mackie’s hard-pressed to resist, and Anthony obviously isn’t trying, because he sighs, long and low, the kind of noise that would precede his hand landing right on Seb’s thigh if they were hanging out in person.

“Well?” Seb prompts, and Mackie smirks again, harder.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“It's _my_ birthday,” Seb protests, and Mackie raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “it is, which is why I wanna know if you're gonna be good for me, _Sebastian,_ because you know I know how you like it.”

Oh _fuck_. He does, he does know, and this is exactly how Seb likes it. He goes hot all over just at the thought, bites his lip, and Mackie sighs softly like he wants to be leaning right in, bracketing Seb back against the back of the couch, kissing and kissing him until they're both breathless.

“Yeah,” Seb says, high and breathy, and he'd be furious about how easily Mackie does this to him if he didn't love it so damn much. “Yeah, I'm gonna- I do, I'll be good for you. Just tell me what to do.”

“Go switch to your iPad,” Anthony says. “Prop it up on your coffee table, or something, I want both your hands free.” Seb does it, arranging piles of old scripts and the book he's mostly not even pretending to read, until the iPad is at the right angle to capture as much of him as possible. Mackie must have done the same, because the frame’s wider, fitting him all in and not just his face. It's so _fucking good_ to see him Seb feels a little lightheaded.

“Yeah,” Mackie says when Seb sits back, “yeah, there you are. Shirt off, baby. Let me see you properly.” Seb makes another noise, one he'd be embarrassed about if he weren't so turned on already. It's basically a whimper, soft and needy, and he pulls off his t-shirt, skims his hands down over his bare chest. Pinches his nipples, just ‘cause it feels good.

“Like that?” he asks, glancing at the camera, and Mackie laughs.

“Yeah, like that. Goddamn, you're a show-off.”

“You like it,” Seb says, because it's true. That's how it works, after all. Seb loves to show off, and Mackie loves to watch. “Can I…”

“Uh uh,” Mackie tells him, “I wanna see you do that a bit more first. Come on, make yourself moan.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Seb says, quiet, and strokes back up over his stomach, his pecs. Brushes one nipple, and catches his lower lip under his teeth, looks at Mackie through his eyelashes. “Like this?”

“Harder,” Anthony says, and Seb pinches, hard, just like he’s told. His mouth falls open and his eyes slide closed and he does moan, arches his hips up a little. God, he’s so hard already it hurts, dick straining against the tight denim of his jeans, and knowing Anthony is watching, it makes it about a billion times better.

“Please-” he chokes, “can I- _please_ ,” and Mackie laughs a little, softly.

“You’re so impatient,” he says, fond. “Yeah, baby. Go on.” Seb doesn’t need any more encouragement. Just undoes his belt, shoves his pants down, palms over his dick through his boxer briefs and then pushes them down too, takes himself in hand. “Look at you,” Anthony breathes, low and hot, “god, _look_ at you. You needed this, huh? Missing me?”

“You know that I am,” Seb says seriously, and it stings for just a second. _Fuck_ , he misses him.

“Yeah,” Anthony says, “yeah, I know. Me too, man. Someday we’ll be in the same fucking city again, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Seb agrees, pushes it down, and it’s taken the edge off, brought him down from desperation to a low buzz of arousal. He strokes himself, slow, blinks up at Mackie. “Aren’t you gonna…”

“Oh, you want that, huh?” Mackie laughs, “god, you’re demanding today.”

“My _birthday_ ,” Seb says again, a whine in it. Needy, he’s fucking _needy_ , and he knows it. It’s just how he gets, with Mackie. Listens to Mackie laugh harder, warm and sweet.

“Here’s how it’s gonna be,” Anthony tells him then. “If you want to watch, you’ve gotta be good for me. I want you to do _just_ what I say. Can you do that, Sebastian?”

“Yeah,” Seb says, suddenly desperate again, aching with it. “ _Yes_ , fuck. Yeah. Come on. Do it.”

“Slow down,” Anthony says, “so slow it hurts, I want you to gasp for it,” and then he’s pushing down his sweatpants, getting his dick out. Seb just stares, shameless, because holy shit he’s beautiful. He’s surprised by it every time, hit with it, with just how fucking _gorgeous_ Mackie is. He wants to be on his knees for Mackie so bad. So _fucking_ bad, god.

“Fuck, I wish I had your dick in my mouth,” he says, more honesty than dirty talk, and Mackie’s rhythm stutters a little.

“God,” he says, “yeah,” and draws in a breath. Seb’s still touching himself slow, just like Mackie ordered, and it’s making him gasp, yeah, he- he wants _more_ , is what he wants. He moans again, can't help it, shifts in his seat, spreads the fingers of his left hand flat over his hip bone.

“Anthony-” he says, and Mackie smiles real soft.

“Keep going,” he tells Seb, “come on, I know how you like it, I bet you're wet, huh.” Seb rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, precome welling up slick, and feels himself get even harder, thrusting up into his hand.

“So wet,” he agrees, “god, so- fuck, it feels good.”

“I want to pull your hair,” Anthony tells him, “I want to just tug it right back, get you baring your throat for me, you know how I'd do it. Make you want it so bad, huh.”

“I do,” Seb gasps, “I do want it bad, I want you so fucking bad,” and he's jerking himself faster now, fingers tight around his dick, teeth sunk into his lip with how hard he wants to come.

"That's it," Anthony says, "yeah, that's it. Touch your chest again for me, sweetheart, tilt your head back, let me see you," and Seb does it just like he's told, pinches his nipples until they're hard and flushed against his skin, pale now that he's not able to lie around in the sun all day. Scrapes his nails down his ribs, lets Mackie catch his expression, because he's always liked that edge of pain, and Mackie knows it just like he knows everything else there is to know about how Seb likes it.

"Oh," he gasps, "oh,  _oh_ , god, that-" and it comes up on him in a rush, blood pounding in his ears, he's so turned on he can't help but think of Mackie's mouth on him, the way he'd leave bite marks where nobody could see, hard and fierce on his hipbone and ribs and shoulder, his thigh, the inside of his elbow. The last one had lasted  _weeks_ , and Seb had pressed his fingers to it over and over just to feel it sting.

“You're gonna come for me?” Anthony asks, and that's it, Seb's whining high in his throat, it's such an effort not to blow right there that he's seeing stars. “Come on, baby. Make a mess for me,” Anthony says, sweet like he's whispering it right in Seb's ear, and Seb shudders and gasps and comes all over his own chest and stomach and hand.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he gets out, sucks his fingers clean just to see Mackie’s expression when he does it, and he's still so goddamn turned on he can't hardly breathe.

“I didn't say you could stop,” Anthony says then, “keep going, I know you've got it in you,” and the thing is, he's not wrong. The fact that Mackie’s found out Seb is multiorgasmic in the right circumstances is a blessing that's maybe gonna kill Seb one of these days, because he wraps his fingers back around his dick, slick now with come and spit, and _oh fuck_ it's intense, it's too-

“It's too much,” Seb chokes, “it's- oh _god_ please,” and he doesn't know if he wants to stop or wants more, it's overwhelming is what it is. Mackie's still jerking off, slow and easy, and Seb is shaking a little, trembling and sweaty.

“You're good, baby,” Anthony coaxes him, “you're good, you're so good, you're beautiful, you're doing so well for me,” and that makes Seb tremble harder, praise hitting him good and filling him right up.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “fuck, _fuck_ ,” and he's already on the edge again, skin hot and tight with the need.

“Yeah,” Anthony murmurs, sounding wrecked, “yeah, that's it, god, Seb, you're so-” and they're both coming this time, Sebastian arching into it, coming so hard it hurts.

“Oh my god,” he says, breathless and shaky and so giddy-happy he can't stop smiling. “That. Yeah. Okay.” Blows hair out of his face, slumps back, looks at Mackie with an expression that's probably stupid and goofy. He can practically feel the hearts in his eyes.

“Happy birthday,” Mackie says, smiling back, and Seb wishes hard he could reach out and touch. Mackie's cheek, the nape of his neck. Press kisses to the corner of his mouth, or something.

“Come visit me in Ireland,” he suggests, mostly joking, and Mackie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, subtle. Come visit _me_ in Boston.”

“Let's just- once we're both back in New York,” Seb says, too blissed out to be sad about how far off that might be.

“Yeah,” Anthony agrees. “Yeah.”

“Sweetheart,” Seb says, soft. “You…”

“You too,” Mackie says, both of them saying it without saying it. Yawns widely, and reaches out of frame, comes back with a towel. Wipes himself off, and that makes Seb realize he's still sticky, covered from about collarbones down in his own come. He laughs a little, tries to clean it up with his t-shirt. Fails. Pulls his pants up, at least, and watches Mackie yawn.

“I should let you take a nap, or something,” he says, and Mackie shrugs.

“You should order something good from room service, is what you should do. Steak and a whisky.”

“You know I'm gonna,” Seb says.

“Well, yeah, because I told you to, and you're real good at following orders,” Mackie teases. “Okay, yeah. I should. I should go. Text me, huh? Send me a picture of those fucking terrible costumes.”

“Send me a selfie with Boyega,” Seb counters. “Or, I know, get him to autograph an action figure.”

“Yeah, you beautiful nerd,” Mackie says, warm and fond. “I'll do that.” He lingers like he doesn't want to end the call, and Seb smiles again, sleepy.

“Go on,” he says. “Sleep while you can.”

“Whatever,” Anthony murmurs, and there it is again, them both saying it silently. Seb can feel it pressing up behind his teeth, filling his mouth up. Sweet on his tongue, and he smiles, and smiles, and taps _end_ on the call. Takes a long, long breath, and then strips off, stands in the shower thinking about nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> "What do you think Anthony and Seb did for Seb's birthday even though he was in Ireland?" a tumblr anon [asked me](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/post/148973578361/hey-hope-youre-having-a-great-day-what-do-you).
> 
> This is what I think, anon. This is what I think.
> 
> Come [hang out with me it's a wild time](http://notcaycepollard.tumblr.com/)


End file.
